


Losing Home

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, JARVIS lives because i miss that snarky AI, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Past Relationship(s), Unrequited Love, i took some liberty with the timeline, really not a fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I'm saying, you need to stop. That's coming from me, not from Steve, not from Bruce. This isn’t going to end well.""For who?" Tony asks, voice cracking slightly.





	Losing Home

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this randomly one day and I thought, why not. I’ll never be over Civil War anyway, even though I desperately wish it wasn’t real. This doesn’t really bash Steve, I tried not to do that with this. But it’s definitely more Tony-friendly.
> 
> All mistakes are my own, no one beta’d this. Also this is my first fic I’ve written in years since I deleted all my old ones.

The first time was fast and rushed and if he’s being honest, Tony doesn’t remember much of it. He remembers the heat of someone’s – Steve’s – body pressing him down onto one of their beds, he remembers the panting breaths, the sound of fabric hitting the floor, of his belt being unbuckled with a sudden _clink_ . He knows it was Steve who was licking his way into his mouth, pulling gasps and moans out of him, but he doesn’t _actually_ remember Steve’s face. If he’s being honest, he could probably say it was someone else and it wouldn’t even make him feel like a liar.

When it happened, it was supposed to just be a one-off. Casual sex that happened in the heat of the moment and that was it. It was just going to be _that one time_ , the sudden arousal caused by the adrenaline post-fight and the feeling of too many people around them both, talking at them all at once. They had needed a release, and they were both there and willing. When Tony woke up on his bed, pants shoved half down his legs, underwear resting below his knees, and his shirt still on but unbuttoned and open, he didn't think much of anything except _I have to fucking pee_ , and when he was done it finally registered that he was alone and he had looked around his bathroom and stepped into the shower and shrugged. If his fingers lingered slightly over the purple smudges littering his collarbone, no one had to know. When he had finally dressed himself, he had walked out of his room and down to the kitchen where he found Steve sitting there at the island, head down with one hand clamped around a mug that smelled like coffee. Tony had just smiled at him and Steve had smiled back and that was that. They didn’t talk, Tony had told himself they didn’t need to. He had taken his own mug and filled it with coffee and excused himself silently, retreating to his workshop to do something important before Pepper dragged him off to another meeting.

It wasn’t that strange of a thing, really. In fact, it was quite common. Sure, not everyone was superheroes who fight bad guys, but that doesn’t mean friends didn’t sometimes get drunk and fuck around. For Tony and Steve, it ended with coffee and a debriefing, for other people it ended with aspirin and avoiding the sun. It was an event that didn’t have to mean anything, it wasn’t important. And the memory would have faded away, Tony’s sure of it, except--

Except, well, it happened again. It stopped being just _that one time_ because there was a _second time._ Tony doesn’t, has never, paid any attention to the so-called “rules” of casual sex, or friends with benefits. He doesn’t need a set of rules guiding his sex life. Besides, he lives with the guy, and they’re friends. What matters is, at the end of day, he can text Steve as much as he wants, thank you, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop him. So, Tony is fine, okay - but, _second time_. Tony Stark doesn’t do second, third, fourth times. He does _one_ time.

Why only one? Well, for most of Tony’s one-night stands, he didn’t want to risk them thinking it meant anything more. But in this case, it was because once can be a mistake. It’s excusable, especially in their line of work. The adrenaline of the moment had gone to both of their heads. They weren’t really thinking. It was just a casual trip to the bed and it meant nothing.

But a second time means it’s not just a mistake. Because if it was a mistake they would’ve never done it again. Twice is like a glitch in the code, for Tony. Twice is a glitch he can’t fix and when he finally stops to think about it it’s too late because now it’s not just twice. It’s three, four, five, six – well Tony’s lost count by now. If it was just once it wouldn’t be something they had to talk about, at least in Tony’s book. But now, now it felt like something they should’ve. Because Tony couldn’t get it out of his mind, no matter how much he tried. And, worst of all, he was really craving a drink.

*

"I don’t know, it seems a little… underwhelming? For HYDRA, I mean. Normally even their most covert operations end in a big in-your-face sort of way, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I mean, I think we've got a good start, but I get what you’re saying. Maybe, Tony- hey, do you think you could get some more intel for us? Maybe SHIELD is hiding something else?”

“Huh- oh, yeah sure. I’ll hack into SHIELD again, double check mainframes and ghost files. Actually, I might just go straight to Fury’s files. Never know what’s up Fury’s sleeve.”

“If Fury is even involved in this one. Don’t give me that look Stark, just listen. Fury was in hiding, I don’t think he’d go through the effort of jeopardizing our trust again. Besides, SHIELD is even more shady than Fury ever was. If anything, Fury could be a help on this one.”

“Sure, makes sense.”

“Thanks, Tony. I just, Steve is right, something feels off about this plan. It’s like--"

"--Feels kinda lacking, right? It's not just me, is it? It's definitely missing something--"

"Yeah, no, I totally get you--"

Tony ignored the conversation after that. Not intentionally, he just couldn’t seem to stop focusing on Steve’s mouth, watching him run his tongue over his bottom lip when he was concentrating extra hard. Tony probably should be listening though, especially after Bruce had just asked him to do something. It's frustrating and inconvenient as hell - this is who Tony _is_. He works to stop the bad guys, in this case HYDRA. This is important, something that should have his undivided attention. Iron Man is the identity that’s given him an escape. It’s the antidote to being Tony Stark, the identity that at best makes him want to vomit at the feet of the press and, at worst, makes him want to curl up and die. No matter what the team, what _Steve_ , tells him, he’d much rather be in the suit, where he feels less hated and more free. Yet here he is, distracted from the responsibilities of the identity that’s keeping him afloat.

He’s been distracted a lot lately. It’s Steve’s fault, even though Tony knows by now that it isn’t intentional, not at all. Still, intention (or lack of) doesn’t stop Tony’s eyes from wandering back to Steve’s mouth. Thank god for JARVIS.

"We need to make sure they don’t see this coming. Maybe have Iron Man sweep in from the left, the right is their weak spot, so they’ll be expecting it from there, and the armor can take it. But - ah - Maybe not, that might make it too-- They might be expecting that, actually- Well-" Steve waves a hand in a wide, vague cutting motion through the air that Tony is usually able to decipher, would normally mock him for. Captain America, getting flustered with mission plans, who would’ve thought. And normally Tony could offer his advice, a solution. They're usually on a similar note with mission planning, even if Steve likes to be more thorough than Tony. On any other day, Tony can watch Steve and Bruce talk like this, watch them plan, and know exactly what to do and say. Today though, today Tony wishes Nat was here to distract him with some cutting comment on his looks.

He tries to focus on Steve’s body language, tries to decipher what he’s trying to get at without having to hear him and Bruce’s loud voices in his head. It doesn’t work though. Tony’s genius brain seems to have taken a back seat today, because he has know clue what Steve is talking -- or gesturing -- about. Listening back into the conversation doesn’t help either though. Back at square one, watching Steve’s mouth and offering a _hmm_ when he hears a word he feels like he should respond to. Tony feels annoyed, ready to slam his head down onto the table in front of him.

"No, wait, look at- what about this," Bruce is saying now, scribbling frantically on the Stark Tablet, and projecting it in front of them for Steve (and Tony, if he was in his right mind) to examine.

Tony’s breath catches when he looks up at Steve. Steve’s eyes are bright in a way Tony rarely get to see anymore as they watch Bruce create what Tony is sure is an excellent plan for busting HYDRA. Steve is leaning up against him even though he could easily see from where he was, the writing is projected after all, an anticipatory hand clutching Bruce's bicep. After Bruce finishes writing there’s a pause while Steve takes it all in. He breaks into a wide smile then, one that reaches right to the corners of his eyes, lighting up his whole face, eyes still bright.

Tony's stomach suddenly flips over, twisting uncomfortably, and he has to look away.

**

When Fury had first approached Tony about the Avengers Initiative, Tony hadn’t taken him seriously, like at all. He entertained the thought for Fury’s benefit, but Tony was never sold on it. Not just because he had a business to run, or because he was too busy having mindless sex, but because Tony didn’t think of himself as someone who worked well on a team, who could offer anything to a collaborative effort. A superhero team? It sounded almost laughable to Tony’s ears. How could that possibly work. It couldn’t. That’s what Tony had told himself. Of course, the palladium poisoning that had ensued had made him question a lot of things and after he tried to throw his life in the garbage and Fury helped pull him out (though he should’ve just given him his dad’s shit from the start) he started to genuinely consider it. He was still nervous though. Being part of a team like that, well, that meant giving your whole life to it. It demanded so much from you. You always had to be ready, always on call. There was no guaranteed vacation. There were no guaranteed victories. And Tony knew he was smart, he built the goddamn Iron Man suit for God’s sake. But still, he didn’t know if he could be that. It was almost a relief when he read Nat’s review of him, the one that said he wouldn’t be a good team asset. Almost, he was still pissed when he read it, covered it up by declining Fury’s offer of _consultant_. God, Tony could never, ever in his life be just a consultant.

Then again, when he was forced to join because of Loki’s impending attack on the world, he felt the nervousness resurface. While he had a better relationship with Nat, he butt heads bad with Steve then. Thank god for Bruce, though. Bruce had been a saving grace, someone he could bond with and talk science with. Still, the words Steve said to him on the helicarrier that day stung, though Tony would never have admitted it. He’s sure the words he said to Steve stung too, even if they had long moved past it and were best friends now. That whole fight hadn’t really made Tony any more confident that the Avengers could work, that _he_ could work as a part of them.

Of course Tony’s glad he was proven wrong, that they all work well together and have bonded, that Tony feels like a part of the team (most of the time). But back then, he was scared, terrified even. He had just come off of the worst traumas of his life, Afghanistan and then palladium poisoning, and was thrown into the fight in New York. Besides, his track record had left a lot to be desired. But now, the Avengers had become his family. They were his home. So by the time Fury handed him the papers and asked if he wanted to officially change his status from consultant to member of the Avengers, Tony could only say _yes._

***

Steve comes to find him after he wanders away to his workshop, of course, Tony should’ve anticipated that. Steve had a thing for noticing when one of his teammates is being strange, and he can read Tony like an open book. Tony breathes out through his nose roughly when he hears the door to his lab slide open nonetheless, not in the mood for Steve. He pauses his video call with Nat and tries not to tense up as he listens to Steve walk closer.

"Hey," Steve says, walking around the desk Tony’s currently sitting at so that he’s behind Tony, resting his hand on Tony’s right shoulder. Tony suppresses a shiver. "Why did you leave the meeting? I think we're really onto something here. Bruce made another breakthrough in planning. We need Iron Man, you know."

Tony shrugs, feeling himself starting to get irritated. "Wasn’t really contributing much. Don’t worry, I’ve got JARVIS recording still. I wanted to get some work done down here anyway, before Pepper needs me. You’ll get Iron Man for the fight, don’t worry." He knows that last part is petty, that Steve didn’t mean Iron Man as a separate entity from him, but he couldn’t help himself. He refuses to turn around, so Steve does it for him, spinning his chair so Tony is facing him.

Tony doesn't look at Steve's face, but he can practically feel the frown and soft eyes Steve is looking at him with. "Are you okay, Tony?"

Tony sighs, there’s not really a point in lying, but he sure as hell isn’t going to give the full truth so he just says, "Always." He forces himself to look up, smacking on his winning for-the-press smile, and finally meets Steve's concerned eyes.

"You don’t have to be, you know.” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s shoulder a little. “If you want, I can give you my therapist’s contact information. She’s great. Or- Well, if you’re not comfortable with that maybe you can talk with Stephen. I know you’re nervous about magic, but I’m sure he could help.”

"...I’ll be fine," Tony says, a beat too late. Steve's frown deepens, the lines more pronounced. Tony doesn’t like the look of it. Thankfully Dummy interrupts before Steve can say something, whirring and pointing his arm at the blender on the counter. The smoothies are ready. Tony gets up, grateful for the escape, and goes to pour a smoothie, “Do you want one?”

There's a pause before Steve answers, "Sure," in a painfully slow tone, which Tony _knows_ is Steve weighing the pros and cons of pushing the issue and trying to figure out what Tony is hiding. Tony turns again towards the smoothies and looks away from Steve, hoping he drops it. Steve probably thinks Tony has lost his mind, he never leaves planning meetings. To be fair, Tony _feels_ like he's losing his mind, but it has nothing to do with the not feeling well, or needing a therapist, and everything to do with Steve - who is still standing too close even though he’s a good 30 feet across the room - all his concern for Tony’s health and blinding smiles and friendly touches that drive Tony wild. Okay, so maybe Tony could do with some therapy.

Tony pours a smoothie into a glass for Steve, handing it towards him before he does his own. Steve takes it, says thanks, but doesn't leave, instead he sits on the desk Tony just left, sipping his smoothie obnoxiously. Tony stares hard at the oil-stained, burnt wall in front of him and takes a slow, deep breath. When he turns around, Steve still look suspicious, concerned as he peers at Tony over the top of his cup, but the smoothie definitely distracted him a little, the frown lines not quite as deep. Tony knows how good his smoothies are. Tony thinks he might, _might_ just let it go.

"I might go take a... nap, after I finish my video calls, I mean," Tony says. It sounds lame to his own ears, when does he ever _nap_ , but he knows that Steve will like the idea.

As predicted, Steve’s eyebrows loosen up even more and Tony has to resist letting out a huge sigh of relief. "Yeah! Yeah, that's a good idea. Rest up so you're all ready to go for the fight. Though we definitely could use your help to continue planning. Oh, and the whole hacking SHIELD thing Bruce mentioned. Don’t push yourself too hard though. We need Tony Stark, you know."

 _I need you too,_  Tony’s mind supplies. Instead he says, "Yeah. I’ve already got some code working at hacking SHIELD. I’ll just uh- yeah finish up and then head up to my room."

Steve smiles then, seemingly calmed, satisfied by Tony’s promise to nap. "Good. I'm going to head back up to Bruce then," he says, finally standing up and backing towards the door. "Maybe you'll feel more inspired when you wake up?"

Tony smiles back at him, even though it hurts. "Maybe."

Steve smiles wider, nodding. "Your smoothie’s going to get the gross kind of runny," he says, and walks away, continuing to sip on his own smoothie as he walks back upstairs. Tony stands there and watches him disappear, momentarily thinking he should’ve offered to make Bruce a smoothie too. Whatever, he really does need to work. Of course, that’s when Nat decides to give him a heart attack by announcing her presence with a clearing of her throat.

"What the fuck!" Tony whips his head towards his desk and sees her face in the projection of the video call he could’ve sworn he paused. "I thought I paused the video call."

"You did," Nat says. Tony sighs when he realizes she’s not going to say anymore. Sometimes he forgets she can hack video interfaces like a pro. Well, she is a pro.

"Your hacking skills are still impressive," Tony says, laughing at himself. "Gotta hand it to you, Romanoff."

Nat doesn't laugh, doesn’t crack a smile, doesn’t even smirk. Instead she just says, "You can’t keep this up, Tony."

Tony last bit of laughter gets stuck in his throat and he swallows painfully. It feels like his heart is either going to stop altogether, or beat right out of his chest. "What?"

Nat sighs. "Listen, I love you, okay. I’m saying this because you need to hear it. This thing you’re doing with Steve, you need to stop--"

"Wait," Tony breathes out, trying not to yell, trying to push down the sudden rush of panic, "What do you-- has he--"

"I'm speaking for myself," Nat says calmly, interrupting Tony’s nonsense and staring Tony directly in the eyes. It still surprises Tony sometimes, how intense Nat’s eyes can be. "I'm saying, you need to stop. That's coming from me, not from Steve, not from Bruce. This isn’t going to end well."

"For who?" Tony asks, voice cracking slightly. His throat feels dry and scratchy, but he can’t bring himself to take a drink of his smoothie, not now.

Nat watches him steadily. Her face is blank as ever, but there's something in her eyes. Tony shakes when he realizes it's _sympathy_. Nat actually feels _sorry_ for him, for Tony Stark. If this was any other circumstance he’d laugh at that. He can’t laugh now. His eyes feel wet and he desperately needs to get away from Nat’s knowing eyes.

"Okay, I'm gonna go-- I’m gonna go work on...some stuff," Tony says and clears his throat, hand already moving to end the video call. Nat doesn’t say another word, doesn’t try to stop him.

****

Tony tells himself that he’s not acting like this because of _that one time_ or _the second time_ or any of the other times. He’s not, because that would just be stupid. He’s not hung up on Steve because of some meaningless sex. He’s not pining after his best friend because of a few nights of adrenaline

That was before. That was when Bucky was still dead, when they were still working on being a good team. That was when the rush of this was still all new. They’re different now, Tony tells himself, so it’s not because of any of that. In fact, he’s not even in love with Steve. This is just, a phase, or something.

It doesn’t even sound convincing to him.

***

The fight goes well, like it always does when Bruce has a planning breakthrough. They bust HYDRA, arrest a few bad guys, and no one is even seriously injured. Of course, the excitement of it all makes Tony lose his mind for a few seconds. He tries pushing Steve against a wall once they’re back and Steve shoves him off. Tony looks at him in shock and Steve looks at him, confused, until he notices the bulge in Tony’s pants. Tony's stomach turns, and this time it's Steve that looks away.

Tony doesn’t come out from his bedroom for the rest of the night.

**

Tony knew, deep down, that when Steve slipped out of bed after the night at Clint’s farm and said, "I can't do this anymore," he wasn't just talking about fighting with Tony about Ultron. But Tony had ignored that part of him, had told himself that Steve just needed some space. But then time passed and Tony watched Steve put his focus on Bucky, on finding him, on helping him. He watched Steve spend more and more time with Sam (and Nat), and less time with himself and Bruce.

He only ever tried again once, a year and a half after Ultron. Steve didn't kiss him back and Tony didn't wait around to hear why, because he already knew but he couldn't hear Steve say it.

*

During the Civil War, Tony feels like his heart is breaking and being ripped from his chest.

After Steve leaves him in the conference, throwing his father’s pen back at him, Tony doesn’t know if he can take much more. His family is being ripped apart, ripped from him. _Steve_ is being ripped from him. He can’t just let him walk away. Steve does not get to have the last word about this.

Tony is so pissed off he’s shaking with it. He hasn’t been this angry since Obie, he thinks. He’s pissed off and worried, and hurt, and a thousand other things that only make him shake more. None of this makes any fucking sense, it shouldn’t have happened like this, but Tony's not sure he even _cares._  He's just so completely fed up of it, so profoundly _sick_ of it all - of himself, of Steve - which makes it easy for him to follow Steve to the bathroom, to slam the door shut and lock it behind him before shoving Steve against the wall.

"Tony?! what--"

"If you want me to stop, you have to tell me," Tony says desperately, throwing it out there like a dare. He's half expecting Steve to throw him off, but the other half expects Steve to do nothing.

Steve looks at him with a little shock in his eyes, maybe nerves too if Tony’s right, and he always is, at least about Steve’s expressions. Steve doesn’t say anything and Tony feels relief and dread fighting for control of his body. He keeps himself still, giving Steve more time to tell him to stop and himself more time to calm down. He doesn't push it, doesn't try to move closer, just leaves his forearms where they are on Steve's shoulders, holding him against the wall, keeping him here even though they both know Steve could easily shrug him off. The silence between them stretches until it’s so tense that Tony’s scared if he breathes wrong it’ll cut like a taut wire and send them both into a panic.

Steve still hasn’t said anything, hasn’t made any move. So Tony steps forward again, hesitantly, like he’s expecting Steve to bolt, which he kind of is. He doesn’t, he stays still. Tony lets his arms drop and Steve still stays put. That settles it then.

When Tony crumbles to his knees and starts unbuckling Steve's belt with frantic fingers, he doesn't say no, he doesn't tell Tony to stop.

Tony breathes hard. His stomach feels like its tied a knot with itself, but somehow he gets the belt undone, yanking Steve's jeans open and down, hands made rough with impatience. He hooks his fingers over the waistband of Steve's briefs and for a moment he feels like stopping, like he should just stop and let Steve pull his pants back up. Tony doesn’t know what to make of this feeling, but Steve isn't moving, he’s barely even breathing. He’s just standing there, looking down at Tony with his mouth pressed into a tight line. Tony keeps going, keeps his eyes on his own fingers as they tug the underwear down.

It hasn't been that long since Tony did this, maybe a month or two, but it has since he last did this to Steve. It’s been years, four maybe, if Tony is counting right. For once his math might be off because his brain is so foggy with desire and fear and something else that he doesn’t know how to think. He takes Steve into his hand, licking at his shaft before sucking the head into his mouth. He can feel Steve trying to hold himself still, his breathing a little more full of small gasps than it was a minute ago, but he never lets out a moan. Tony takes what he can get.

Tony's jaw aches in a way that is so good, so familiar, he almost feels like crying because of it. His eyes are watering, blurring, so he squeezes them shut - he can’t let himself cry, not now. Shutting his eyes just makes the familiarity hit him even harder, because everything is _Steve, Steve, Steve_. He can smell him, taste him, feel him. The taste of him blooming over Tony's tongue is like coming home, so familiar it hurts deep in Tony’s chest. Tony moans pathetically around him, and Steve's hips twitch upwards, his breath hitching, and Tony wants to hear, he wants to feel Steve lose control like he used to, but he knows he can't. Steve won’t give that to him, hasn’t given that to him in years, and especially won’t now.

It doesn’t take long, Tony’s just as good at this as he always was. A few minutes and Steve’s hips are twitching up again, his breath more ragged. Steve’s hands stay glued to the wall until right before he comes, when he breathes out a soft, whimper-like noise. For a brief, wonderful moment Tony thinks Steve's going to run his fingers through his hair, maybe even tug him further onto his dick until he hits the back of Tony’s throat. He doesn’t, of course. He stops himself, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air. Tony can’t help himself, he grabs Steve’s hand and intertwines their fingers. Steve lets him for all of 2 seconds before he pulls his hand back, gluing it to the wall again. He keeps gasping though, hips rising more and more each time Tony lifts back up. Tony knows he should pull off, but he can’t bring himself to and Steve isn’t going to pull him off. Instead, he shoves himself further down, swallowing around Steve, trying not to choke when Steve comes into his mouth. He swallows and swallows, silently praying this moment doesn’t end, drawing it out for as long as he can, until there's nothing left to take. He lets Steve slip out of his mouth and then stays there, looking down at the ground and panting.

Steve doesn’t waste any time grabbing some paper towel, wiping himself off, and tugging his briefs and pants back up. Tony doesn't want to move, but his knees can’t take much more of the kneeling on hard tile. He gets up, knees cracking and legs shaking, and then they both stand there, another awkward silence stretching taut between them. Tony stares at his shoes until Steve breaks and does what he does best, talks.

"Tony, I can’t--"

Tony jerks his head up. "Don't," he says tightly. His throat is raw. His tongue feels too big, too heavy. He feels sick, knowing the words that are coming even as he has the taste of Steve lingering thick and bitter on his tongue.

Steve's face crumbles at the tightness in Tony’s voice. "I'm so sorry, Tony," he says, and Tony thinks the worst part of all of this is that Steve genuinely is sorry. Tony can see the anxiety tugging at Steve's fingers and feet, the regret coloring his eyes and knotting up his eyebrows. Steve is so fucking _sorry_ Tony can't fucking stand it.

Tony makes a move for the door handle, but Steve saw it coming of course, grabbing his forearm before Tony can get the lock undone. Tony flinches, steps back with a gasp, but Steve follows him easily, grabbing Tony’s other arm too. Tony panics, twisting his shoulders, desperately trying to snatch his arms out of Steve's grip. It’s, of course, a useless attempt.

"Fuck, Tony, wait--" Steve's saying, but Tony can't, he _can't_ \--

"Let go," Tony pleads, his voice wet with tears he’s trying not to let fall. "Let me go, Steve, please, just get off me--"

"No," Steve says, his fingers sliding down until they're tight around Tony's wrists, pulling against Tony's backpedalling like a tug of war. "No, Tony, stop it - just-, come _here_ \--!"

"I can't," Tony gasps as his back hits the opposite wall, and immediately Steve is all up in his space, holding Tony's hands firmly at his sides and boxing Tony's thrashing body in against it with his own.

"I'm sorry, fuck, I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't-- I should've said no, I'm such a fucking _asshole_ \--" His arms are winding around Tony's torso, strong arms pulling him against a warm, solid chest, and Tony wants to fight him, wants to rear back and punch him in his stupid, perfect teeth, wants to get him on the ground and pin him down and--

Tony gives in with a noise like a sob, fight draining from him as quick as it came. He lets himself sag in Steve's arms, clutching frantically at the leather covering Steve's back. Steve's hugging him so tightly, like maybe he's scared Tony's legs are going to give out, but it isn't tight enough. Steve smells like clean linen, like memories, and Tony wants to bury himself in that smell and never leave.

"Sometimes I wanted to abandon the search efforts," Tony's suddenly confessing in a harsh whisper, shame rushing through him like a hot, vicious current. "Sometimes I wished Barnes stayed dead so that you’d- so we would still--"

"Tony," Steve sighs, but he doesn't sound shocked, or disappointed, or anything else he should be. He just sounds sad, sorry. He lets Tony pull him as close as they can get, knees bumping, Tony's face pressed into Steve's shoulder. Close enough to feel his chest vibrate as he talks, rapid and frustrated, "God, I’m so sorry. That night at Clint’s— I know I shouldn’t have left it like that, I should’ve stayed and explained. This is all my fault. I didn’t know how to explain, I was scared and confused. I know I should’ve tried though, you deserved that—”

"Shut up," Tony snaps, because he doesn't want to hear about Steve's guilt, and he doesn't want Steve's remorse, or Nat’s sympathy, or fucking anyone else's. He wants something he can't have and he's known that for a long time. "Just--" _Hold me_ , Tony almost says, but stops himself because, aside from the fact this isn't a Hollywood moment by a long shot, it just doesn't feel right. "Just stay like this for a while. Please."

After a pause, Tony feels Steve nod slowly against the side of his face. "Okay," he says softly.

*

Tony wishes he could say it got easier after that. He wishes he could say that they made up, that he found someone else to love. But he didn’t. In the end he just pulled away slowly from Steve, not looking at him, just backing towards the door and leaving. He probably should’ve said more, should’ve made some effort to clear the air in more ways than one, but he was weak and he couldn’t face Steve.

It’s not as if Steve made any effort either. He let Tony walk away, watched him walk away. Tony would be lying is he said he didn’t wish Steve had stopped him again.

And Tony knew that brief moment of touching kindness didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme. That _of course_ Steve hadn’t changed his mind. That they were still in the midst of a fucking Civil War. But it didn’t hurt any less when Steve refused any efforts at reconciliation over the accords.

**

When they had met at the airport Tony hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end. If Steve would just _listen_ to him. But of course, Steve never listens. Always so stubborn, so unwilling to compromise.

Tony had begged, pleaded at him not to tear the Avengers apart. It was Tony’s last act of desperation.

“You did that when you signed.”

Hearing those words coming from Steve’s mouth made Tony’s ears ring. It was a turning point. He knew then that Steve wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to surrender. He wasn’t going to let _Tony_ help. So Tony just flipped his faceplate on and did what he did best, fight.

Fists flying into shields, webs slinging through the air, men shrinking and growing, it zoomed through Tony’s head, messing with his focus. His mind was still _Steve._ He couldn’t get him out and that, really, was the most unfair thing. He was so angry, so hurt, but yet all he wanted was for Steve to stop the fight, to hug him again, to tell him he was sorry and let Tony take them all in, as friends and teammates, instead of criminals.

When Wanda tried crushing him with cars, he had laid there for a few moments, stunned and trying to figure out how they had gotten here. His left arm was shaking, aching so deep in the bone that Tony thought for a second he might need a new arm. Watching these people who had become his family fight and tear at each other broke Tony’s heart more than anything else had.

When Rhodey fell from the sky, laid on the ground barely breathing, Tony’s heart had stopped. When he looked up at the sky and saw Steve’s plane shrink into the distance all he could think was _I’m sorry_. He didn’t even know who it was directed at in that moment.

***

When Tony got the information that Barnes really wasn’t behind the bombing, he was relieved. He was angry at himself, at Steve too. He wished he had seen this earlier, had realized what was going on. He wished Steve had called him first, had explained the situation. Tony doesn’t know if he would’ve believed him, but he would’ve tried. He wished Steve had trusted him enough for that. He supposed he only had himself to blame for Steve’s lack of trust, though.

So he flew to Siberia, planning to make it up to him.

**

Watching his mom being choked to death by Barnes definitely makes it onto Tony’s _Worst Moments of My Life_ list. He feels so helpless, so broken watching it. Hearing her voice, calling out for her father, then watching that _human_ hand claps around her throat. Tony can’t stand it. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, examining him. He can feel Barnes _not_ watching him. Tony feels sick.

When the video ends, he can’t help himself, he goes to lunge at Barnes. Steve stops him of course, but that just makes him angrier. And then it hits him, Barnes is everything to Steve so, “Did you know?”

“I didn’t know it was him.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?”

“Yes.” The finality of Steve’s words hit him like a truck. He can feel himself vibrating with anger, hurt, shock. He lets out a breath and flips the faceplate on, swinging his arm to punch Steve right in his face. It feels good, watching him hit the ground. He turns back to Barnes, rushing at him with the rage and grief he’s had buried inside him for decades.

The fight passes in large, blurry chunks. Tony is trying to concentrate more, but he can’t. _I don’t care. He killed my mom._ When he asks Barnes if he remembers his parents, he isn’t even expecting an answer.

“I remember all of them.” Under any other circumstances, that would’ve given Tony pause. He would’ve felt sympathy of Barnes. But now, when rage is coursing through his veins, when he can see his mother dying replaying in his mind, it just makes him angrier.

“I’m sorry, Tony. You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice, but he was my friend.”

“So was I.” Tony doesn’t feel any better when he says it. His heart feels heavy. He feels like he still has the arc reactor implanted in his chest. His breaths are harder to take. His left arm is trembling slightly again. It’s like with that exchange, it’s settled. Tony and Steve are over. He feels the weight of Steve’s words in his head, in his arms and legs, even in his feet. The night at Clint’s rings around at the back of his brain. This thing he’s been doing, Nat was right, it didn’t end well. He can’t have Steve, and now he’s realizing he never really did. Steve would always choose Bucky over him. He would beat Tony to a bloody pulp if it meant saving Bucky.

 _Maybe it was a lie,_  Tony thinks as he hears another crunch of armor, _maybe I wasn’t your friend._ He knows it’s not true, Steve was his best friend, but right now, it feels like he doesn’t know this man at all.

When Steve is on top of him, cracking his armor, pounding at his faceplate, Tony genuinely thinks this might be the end. When Steve pulls off his faceplate and Tony looks up at him, at the rage on Steve’s face, Tony’s mind feels almost blank. He watches Steve raise the shield again and can’t help but bring his hands up, one last desperate reflex to save his own life. The shield cracks down on his chest plate instead. He doesn’t even feel relieved.

Tony lies there on the ground, listening as Steve helps Barnes up and goes to walk away. Once again, Tony can’t let Steve have the last word, “You don’t deserve that shield. It doesn’t belong to you. My father made that shield!”

The sound of the shield hitting the ground with a loud _clink_ makes Tony recoil a bit. He stares at the shield helplessly. Steve, he thinks, probably dropped it as a way to make it up to Tony. A sort of _here, take this, maybe you can move on._ Tony spits some blood on the ground. Steve is still walking away. Tony’s anger resurfaces, a tide pushing through his body and he wants to hurt Steve as much as he can, though he can’t physically.

“I was wrong about you. The whole world was wrong about you.”

***

When Tony gets the package in the mail and reads the letter he doesn’t know how to feel. The letter reads like a half-baked apology, an attempt to make Steve feels better about himself. The phone that comes with it feels like a brick in Tony’s hand.

_If you need me, I’ll be there._

How could he ever call Steve? Maybe if the world was ending, he would be able to. After everything, Tony feels more alone than he ever has. He works at helping Rhodey recuperate and tries not to think about how everyone else he ever cared about as part of his team, his family, is gone. He slips the phone into his pocket, feeling its weight against his thigh.

He doesn’t call Steve.


End file.
